A Plus Sign
by irishileana
Summary: All that changed was a plus sign. And yet this caused the event that would change their lives forever. Nothing would be the same. But is that necessarily a bad thing? An entry for a contest on another site. WARNING: Fluff and canon scenes.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Actually, this one's also dedicated to my (non-FP) friend Allison. I went through a few videos of her the other day (her husband likes to record every moment of their lives, which can be very amusing) and I discovered her reaction to getting pregnant. So I thought I'd take that journey through the eyes of a book couple and see where it takes me.**

**Yes, it's canon again. And parts of it are mildly fluffy. So I know at least one Slytherin who might not be so willing to go through this. Bear with me, eh?**

**Oh, and in defence of Allison, I'm pretty sure neither she nor her relatives reacted the way I've depicted them to. That's all fictitious.**

**Disclaimer: Did you know that if you make my nameinto an anagram, it spells something that looks nothing like J.K. Rowling? Still don't own it. Also, don't own the quote (obviously).**

* * *

_You don't seem happy. I know you're happy, but it's just . . . it's just too weird right now. Because . . . nothing changed. Except . . . a plus sign._

_Math will never be the same._

_-Allison E._

He whisked her slender body into the room, kissing her forehead, her neck, her lips. She giggled, carried by his strong arms with her own around his neck . . . and for once, not in a threatening manner. He was the love of her life, and at long last, they were going to get some privacy in that.

"Well, Mrs. Potter, this has been a day of passionate vows, passionate kisses, and passionate tears. Now," Harry winked at her. "we can have a chance at some passionate—"

"Hello, Master and Mistress Potter!"

"BAH!"

Harry jerked in surprise, consequently dropping his new wife (fortunately on the white, silky bed, as opposed to the hardwood floor). "Kreacher!"

A familiar sagging face peered out from beside the closet, its large eyes seemingly bright and helpful. Still, a small smirk could be detected in its aging lines.

"Master Potter was hoping that his room would be suitable for his special day, so Kreacher has been working all days with the other house elfs to make it so. Kreacher hopes this is enough."

"Yeah . . . yeah, Kreacher, it's perfect. Thanks. But . . . er . . . could you go back home now? You, er, deserve a break. And, you know . . ." Harry glanced pointedly at the bed and the slowly recomposing woman on it. Kreacher's ears perked up.

"Oh, of _course_, Master Potter. Whatever you is wishing, Kreacher wants. Kreacher hopes for good luck to the both of you."

Winking, Kreacher snapped his fingers and disapparated. To Harry's immense relief.

"Now," he sighed. "Where were we? Ah, yes. Well, wifey—"

"_Wifey_?" she interjected.

"You know you like it. As I was saying, wifey, you look spectacular in that dress. So elegant and clean. But as people love to say . . . it's what's underneath the dress that counts."

She laughed.

"What?" Harry asked, disappointed as he sat down on the head next to her. "You don't think that makes me sound charming and sexy?"

"Actually, it makes you sound like a creepy prat," she explained, smiling. Then, seeing the look on his face, she laughed and kissed him. "But you're my creepy prat, so that's all right."

He grinned and embraced her, leaning down against the pillows as his hand slid down to her waist.

"I've been waiting a long time for this, Ginny Potter."

* * *

"I'm not saying it's probably serious or anything. I just think you ought to check it out. You've been sick for the past few weeks now, and it doesn't seem like anything's changing that. You need to see a Healer."

"I do not." Ginny pursed her lips, waiting for the wave of nausea to pass . . . or at least for Harry to be covered in her vomit. "There's nothing wrong with me."

"But what if you've caught something?"

"If I'd caught something, we would have been able to fix that by now. I'm just getting dizzy, and that's messing with my stomach."

Harry closed his eyes. _Never try to reason with an insane woman_. "If you're getting dizzy, Gin, it's something we need to check out."

At that moment, something occurred to him.

"Gin . . . what if you're pregnant?"

She looked at him. She looked at her belly. She looked out the window, where a dog chased a squirrel up a tree and was now barking at it with quite a bit of menace.

"I'm not."

"How do you know?"

"I'm just not."

"You don't know that, though."

"Harry James Potter, for the last time, I am _not_ pregnant!" Ginny shouted, surprised to feel tears well up in her eyes. "I'm not ready to have a baby! We've only been married a month! How are we supposed to deal with a damn child? I can't even get you to stop throwing your socks on the counter at the end of the day, we only just got back from Sweden, people are going to think it happened _before_ the wedding, and for that my mother is going to _kill me_!"

The dog, frightened by the sound of such a raised voice, had bounded away. The squirrel had scurried further up the tree.

"Ginny . . . Ginny, hon, calm down—"

"Oh, that's easy for you to say!" she screamed. "_You don't have a freaking baby in your uterus!_"

"Only because I don't have a uterus." Harry pointed out lamely. This did not help matters.

"Oh, that's right, you don't have to live with this problem! Your work here is done! And now you're going to run off and leave me here all alone to deal with this _myself_ while you're out _boinking Cho Chang without a care in the world!_ Potter, _you are such a pig!_"

Harry blinked. Things were not going his way.

"Ginny," he began calmly, forcing himself to look straight into her eyes (this was only dangerous because they looked about ready to kill him with a single glance). "I haven't spoken to Cho Chang in years. I don't know where she is right now, except that she's married to Roger Davies. And even if I did know what had happened to her, I wouldn't want to be with her. I don't love her. To be honest, I don't even like her that much. I love you."

She bit her lip, her chest heaving as she tried to overcome the intense emotion that had suddenly taken her over. The rational part of her mind (which at this point was a bit small and cowering in a corner from the rest of her mind) knew that Harry was right. This was not his fault. But he wasn't finished.

"And maybe you're not pregnant. Maybe there's a different explanation for this. But, still, Ginny, I think you should check it out. For us."

"We're not pregnant," she countered defiantly. He sighed, realizing he was never going to win this, and let her run to the bathroom to watch today's meal of cherries and tomatoes (she was having an odd appetite these days) come back in reverse.

As Harry puttered around the kitchen, wondering what he had done to nearly be slaughtered by his own wife, Ginny sat down on the bathroom floor, head against the door, suddenly very exhausted. Well, that was probably because of all the yelling. What was _wrong_ with her?

She closed her eyes for a few moments and wondered if maybe, just maybe, it was true. She didn't think so, but still . . . she was curious. Reopening her eyes and straightening up a bit, Ginny took out her wand. Few times it had failed her before. It couldn't fail her in this.

_Positive is yes, negative is no. _She kept that thought in her mind, imagining the outcome as she performed the spell. She took in a breath. _Positive is yes, negative is no._

_Could I be pregnant?_ She did wonder, watching as the pink haze appeared before her, ready to take shape. _Positive is yes, negative is no._

With his head banging repeatedly against a cupboard, Harry realized that he hadn't heard Ginny speak for several minutes. "Gin? Ginny, are you all right in there?"

_Positive is yes, negative is no_.

"Ginny?"

"Oh, _shit_."


	2. Chapter 2

"So, do you think you guys will be having a baby anytime soon?"

Ginny choked on her water and Harry patted her gently on the back. "What?" she managed.

"Hermione, you've missed the turn," Ron pointed out, distracted from his previous question. "Little Miss Perfect isn't so brilliant after all!"

"Oh, and I suppose you would do so much better?" Hermione challenged. "I don't see your driver's licence."

"Not this again!"

And so the two were off as usual, completely wrapped up in their own bickering, which gave Ginny and Harry a chance to exchange meaningful looks. They would be revealing the news (_the good news_, as Ginny continually reminded herself. _Not the scary news of scaredom_) tonight, but the timing had to be right. Her sputtering in the backseat of Hermione's Ford Anglia (which bore a remarkable resemblance to the car that was currently living the wild life in the Forbidden Forest at the moment) in the midst of meaningless squabbling would not cut it.

At long last, Hermione pulled up to the small cottage Harry and Ginny now shared, commenting on the tulips growing in the front yard as she opened the driver's door. Ginny smiled, understanding this as a sign that the storm had cleared, at least for a little while. She unlocked the door of the house and led everyone inside.

"So how was Sweden? Did you visit all the stores and the restaurants? You know, Stockholm is really an amazing place to visit, with all of its magical and muggle culture. Did you see the statue of—"

"Hermione, I doubt they had time for sightseeing, if you know what I mean." Ron laughed. His fiancée turned a bright shade of pink to match the colour that had already grown onto Ginny's face. The latter winced.

"Ron, you do know I'm your sister, right?"

He cringed. "Oh. I forgot about that."

"No kidding."

They sat in the living room, which had been decorated in a fashion not dissimilar to the Gryffindor common room, red chintz and all. Harry offered everyone a drink, soon re-entering with three glasses of red wine and water for his wife.

"So, Harry, Ginny. What's going on?"

The couple in question raised all four of their combined eyebrows. "How do you mean, Hermione?" Ginny asked cautiously.

"Well, something's happened. Both of you look like you're about to take an exam that could either bring you to complete happiness or destroy you to pieces. I mean, that would be understandable if either of you were actually in exams, but we know you aren't. Besides which, I heard Ginny's been taking some time off from the Harpos—"

"Harpies," Ron corrected her. "Wait a minute, you've been away from Quidditch?"

"Quit _harping_ on me, I've got a lot on my mind," Ginny teased with the traces of a grin. Hermione smiled.

"All that being said, you've clearly got Ron and I over for a reason. _What_ have you got on your mind?"

Ginny took a deep breath, reaching for Harry; he came to her side and squeezed her hand gently. Seeing the looks they gave each other sent a lightning bolt of realization through the bushy-haired woman. Her loud gasp, however, was hastily stifled. She understood that it was their story to tell.

"Well," began Ginny. "The other day, we noticed that I was acting a bit strange."

"It wasn't just a day," Harry interrupted. "You were sick for ages."

"Ginny was sick?" Ron asked, alarmed.

"May I finish?"

Ron nodded grudgingly and leaned back into his chair sulkily.

"We weren't exactly sure what was going on. We went through all sorts of medical books so that we could try to find the source of the symptoms."

"Well, the books would have told you, of course!" Hermione exclaimed. Ron shushed her, and though she opened her mouth to shoot something back, she remembered that now was not the time.

"Actually," Ginny explained, smirking slightly. "The books weren't any help at all. One suggested it was one of the early signs of spattergroit. But do you see any pustules?

"Anyway. The other day," she gave Harry a dark look. "Harry told me one other thing I ought to try testing myself for. I didn't want to believe it, but . . ."

"What do you have? Is it life-threatening? Can you be cured?"

"Ron!" Ginny cried. "I'm pregnant!"

It was not the perfect moment that she'd hoped it would be. Hermione didn't seem surprised; undoubtedly she'd already expected it. Her expression was as undecipherable as Ron's. The shock of the announcement made his eyes widen, but after this he buried his face in his hands. They watched him for what seemed like an eternity.

"What are you going to do?"

Harry was startled to realize that the question was directed at him. "What?"

"What are you going to do?" Ron asked, standing from his chair, his face filled with fury. "Are you just going to leave my sister like this? Are you going to make her deal with a _baby_ all by herself?"

"Why doesn't anyone think I'm going to help my wife?!"

"I don't know, Harry!" Ron bellowed, knocking over his wine, which fell to the floor and shattered at his feet. "I just don't know! What if you don't help her out? _What if you just run off because you can't deal? _You don't look happy! You look like you're going to run off and shag Cho Chang for the hell of it and forget Ginny, because you just don't give a damn about _my little sister!_"

For good measure, Ron took Hermione's wine glass (which she'd been drinking from) and smashed it to the ground as well. Silence billowed through the house once the crash had died away.

"You can really tell you two are related, did you know that?"

Ginny smacked Harry's arm. "What? You reacted in the exact same way. For some reason, both of you are under the impression that my goal in life is to shag Cho Chang."

"Is it?" Ron questioned angrily.

"No, it isn't!" Harry laughed. "Trust me. My plan is to be with Ginny all through this. Through sickness and in health."

"'Till baby do us part." Ginny smiled.

"Hey, our baby will never part us. We're strong. We can figure it out."

"And there are plenty of books that can help families out when it comes to raising a child." Hermione offered. Harry rolled his eyes. No book was going to help this family.

"Still, he's right about one thing," Ginny pointed out sadly. "You don't seem happy. I know you're happy, but it's just . . . it's just too weird right now. Because . . . nothing changed. Except . . . a plus sign."

"Sort of takes Arithmancy to a new level, doesn't it?" Harry joked.

"I didn't take Arithmancy."

"I know. I'm including Hermione here."

The foursome relaxed into their chairs and tried to absorb it all. In a few moments, it had hit Ginny.

"There's a human inside of me!"

"Are you just realizing this?" Harry seemed puzzled.

"Sort of. I mean . . . there's someone living in my body. A real person."

He realized what she meant now. It hadn't quite reached him yet, but he understood. "You're out of water, Gin. I'll get you some more."

"Holy smokes! I'm having a child!"

He shook his head and sighed, taking her glass from the table.

"Oi! Would you mind bringing a couple of wine glasses while you're at it? Ours broke!"


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Yep

A/N: Yep. Rushed (fluffy) ending. I did try to keep this story a bit long, but I think I covered what I need to. Enjoy yourselves.

_Why am I so fat?_

Ginny stared at herself in the mirror and sighed. Three months had passed since the day Baby Potter had decided to make it his or her home in Ginny's uterus. Since then, Ginny had gained an annoying amount of weight, especially on her thighs. She looked paler, older, fatter . . . uglier. The other day she'd run into her former Divination teacher, and her friend. As she walked away, she'd heard Professor Trelawney whisper that she had really let herself go. It was not a great day.

She glanced into her reflection once more and noticed Harry standing over her shoulder, looking at the mirror as intently as she'd been. She forced herself to keep her voice steady. "What are _you_ looking at?"

"I was just thinking," Harry smiled, turning the soon-to-be mother to him. "That you are the most beautiful woman I have ever met."

The fourth month was a strange one. After three months of mostly wanting nothing to do with Harry, Ginny suddenly wanted to spend every moment with him . . . in bed. This was the cause of extremely animal lovemaking (but not _too_ much, because of the fact of the baby). Harry was a big fan of this stage.

Ginny would never forget the day in her fifth month when she went to answer the door in her kimono after a particularly ferocious session, figuring it was probably one of the neighbours coming to call for a carton of eggs or something of the sort. She was a bit surprised when she came face-to-face with a man who Harry had informed her was a "policeman."

"We've had a noise complaint," the man explained, looking slightly embarrassed as he took in her wardrobe. "and I'm just going to give you a warning this time. Please, ma'am, try to keep it down."

The seventh month was a hard one. Ginny began experiencing frequent back pain, heartburn, and leg cramps. She found breathing more difficult and spent most of her time each day in the bathroom. She might have been able to modify this with magic, but she and Harry had agreed for the birth and pregnancy to be 100 natural, without either of them even knowing the gender or actual birth date of the baby (of course, they knew the due date). Ginny was starting to regret that decision.

Midway through the eighth month, Ginny became dehydrated and collapsed on her bed, terrifying Harry, who immediately sent an owl to the Healers at St. Mungo's.

"Great going, Harry," Ginny muttered as she was slowly revived. "You invite hot Healers over only when I look like a pear."

Harry blinked, and then noticed the muscle definition of the nearest Healer.

"Oi, Hotstuff, get your paws away from my wife!"

By the ninth and final month of pregnancy, Ginny was sick and tired of being pregnant. She was almost a week past her due date and she didn't want to move from her bed unless it was to have the baby. Yet, somehow, she summoned up enough energy to allow her mother into her home. Upon seeing Molly Weasley, Ginny burst into tears.

"Why won't it end? I just want to get this over with so that everything will be easier! Tell me, Mum, tell me it'll be easier!"

"Ginny, I can't lie to you." Molly looked her daughter in the eye, a knowing smile on her face. "It's hard, having a child. There are some days when you want to smack them over the head with a broomstick. Yes, even you!" she laughed. "And labour is no walk in the grove, either."

"But whoever this person may turn out to be, he or she is a part of you, and always will be. You will always, always want to keep this little one safe, even when you have to let him or her go. Because nothing is worse than losing a child."

Ginny looked up then and knew exactly what her mother was thinking. Fred's cheerful face flashed before her, and she tried to imagine losing the unborn inside of her. The idea itself made her want to fall apart.

"But no matter what happens, Ginny . . . it will always be worth it. Always."

It was at this moment that the new mother's water broke.

"Harry James Potter, if I get my hands on you, I will strangle you for doing this to me!" Ginny screamed as the Healers wheeled her into the birthing room. Harry, considerably frightened, turned to Mrs. Weasley.

"Well . . . I mean, she's overreacting, right? Labour can't be that . . ."

Mrs. Weasley gave him one of the coldest looks he had ever been on the receiving end of.

_Right. Brilliant, Harry. Who do you say this to? The mother of seven. If one Weasley woman doesn't kill you, the other certainly will._

"Harry!"

As was custom on occasions like these, Harry's vision was completely impaired by a mass of bushy brown hair.

"Harry, we've just heard, Ron's already trying to get into the birthing room but the Healers said only you and Ginny were allowed—but then why aren't you in there with her? This is one of the most special days of your life!"

"She, um . . . isn't feeling too happy with me right now."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Harry. You know it's not her talking. It's the pain. Your wife needs you. Go get your arse in there and be there for her, like you promised us you would. Go on."

She pushed him in the right direction and, with one deep breath, prepared to follow these directions.

_Just breathe_, he thought. _Breathe._

"Breathe! Breathe! Breathe! Breathe!"

"I AM BREATHING, POTTER, DO YOU THINK I WOULD BE HERE IF I WASN'T?!"

"Come on, Ginny, you can do it! Push! Push!"

"YOU'RE GOING TO PAY FOR THIS!"

"Push! Push!"

"I HOPE THE BABY RIPS OUT YOUR TESTICLES!"

". . . Push! Come on, Gin, just one more big push and . . ."

"AAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH!!"

"And . . ."

"Mrs. Potter . . . it's over. You're done."

"Hear that Ginny? We're done! It's over!"

"What did _you_ do?! And would it kill you lot to tell me the sex?"

"Why are we talking about sex?"

"THE SEX OF THE BABY, POTTER!"

"Mrs. Potter, it's all right. He's here. Your beautiful baby boy."

She couldn't stop staring at him. James Sirius Potter, here in all his glory.

Harry had left for the time being, along with the rest of the people who had all congregated at the hospital to congratulate them. She didn't know if he felt like a father yet, and was still trying to forgive him for the general agony she'd gone through over the past 34 hours. But she certainly knew about herself, here, alone with him at last.

His eyes, already turning a warm brown to match her own, peered at her curiously. His hand reached out and grabbed her finger, refusing to let go, the way she knew she would someday. At least he was attached to her for the time being.

"Hello, James," she called to her new son. "Hello."


End file.
